Remus My Love
by John Locke
Summary: With an abused spirit, body, and mind, Remus John Lupin will never be the same. Who can help him on his way to being a half of the person he once was? AU for a few reasons. I don't own the song
1. Utter Devotion

** You Own My Soul**  
  
I do not fit together,  
My pieces fall apart.  
You are my glue,  
And you hold the key to my heart.  
  
My life is nothing without you,  
The cliché sums up my life.  
My tomorrow is nothing without your smile,  
You light up my life with just your existence.  
  
You own my soul.  
  
My happiness I entrust to you,  
Do whatever you feel.  
But never worry,  
I could never run from what I am not worthy.  
  
To you I pledge my life, my love, my heart.  
A token which will never be taken back.  
Too late it is to turn back now,  
For my fears might turn into reality. Losing you.  
  
If I could just state to you my heart felt pledge,  
I wouldn't be berating myself,  
My mind not on edge.  
  
A funny thing silent devotion is.  
One does know, but will never tell,  
Two may know, but never an action will either take.  
  
Maybe my fate will produce a reaction.  
A slip of the hand,  
A tumble of foot.  
There is no other way.  
  
Truth be told, I am no coward,  
But when it comes to you,  
Why do I stutter, stumble, find a loss of words,  
Embarrassing easily.  
With your beauty, you could bring even the strongest to his knees.  
  
A bloke like myself could never get your attention,  
Wishful thinking is all I do,  
Waiting, hoping, despairing.  
What would I ever give to be with you?  
  
My life, my love, my heart.  
  
You own my soul.


	2. Leaving It All Behind

It was the day everyone was set to leave the place many called home, for not everybody had a home. Or that's what Remus Lupin had always felt for it was true for him. His house was not his home, his father and brother not his family. Everything and everybody he loved was at Hogwarts, and nothing could change that. A loud sigh escaped his lips at the exact moment as his friends. His dark brown eyes looked up from his almost interesting frayed robes at his hazel eyed friend. The two were both equally bothered fifteen year olds, but no one really knew the extent of Remus' problems. He wouldn't let them know, he couldn't place all of his burdens on his friends, they already dealt with his werewolfism every month when they didn't need to, and besides he didn't need help. He could hear voices, but not words, they seemed to just jumble into one large blur as they reached his ears. He kept a straight face, not letting it on how bothered he was that it was once again time to leave home. Home is where the heart is, and his heart was most definitely locked inside of Hogwarts.  
  
The train moved swiftly, unnoticed by most of its occupants, who were all consumed by games, thoughts, friends and other such things. But everybody wasn't too caught up in the last carriage to know that something was wrong. "Remus... Remus!" A concerned voice grew louder with each time it called the name. The boy was sitting directly next to the boy being called. Startled, Remus turned to face the shorter blond haired blue-eyed boy. "Yes Peter." His voice was tired, and strained. He did not want to talk at this moment , in fear of letting his emotions go. Having a tight reign over his emotions, just letting any through would shatter his whole personality.  
  
"Anything wrong?" Peter Pettigrew was his name, and was not at all as homely and childish as he seemed. Remus respected the fact that Peter had started to stick up for himself lately, but he hated him at the moment. "More than you will ever know." Rising quickly to his feet, he exited the room like area before a response could be uttered.  
  
The pictures of his memories flooded his mind as he absentmindedly fumbled through the corridor. He tried not to think of that one day, his lies had come true. Damn everything to hell, his life was becoming more and more unbearable. And just to think, if it was this bad at age fifteen, what about ten years from now? Pushing his sadness and feelings of loneliness aside, he barely had time to look up when he walked straight into something, or more like somebody. With a tangle of limbs, there were grunts and mumbles. Finally Remus got up and looked down at whom he had walked into, Lily Evans.  
  
"Would you watch where you're going next time?" The little red head was dwarfed as she was picked up by Remus. He stood a good foot taller than her already, but she paid no attention to the difference. "I wouldn't bother even trying to get Potter and I to apologize Remus. It is not going to happen." The petite red head said fiercely. But her words fell onto deaf ears. He wasn't listening to her petty protests. "Just leave me alone. I wasn't looking for anybody, I'd much rather be alone." His voice was sharp and cold as he pushed past her. It was true, he was really alone anyway.  
  
The girl was left stunned behind him. She had made a decision, Remus had never acted like that. Of all the things for him to do… She had been observing him for years, and had gotten semi-close to him. But he was always sweet and never had an ounce of nastiness in his body. Shaking her head, causing a few more pieces of fiery red curls to fall out of the loose ponytail, she walked to the end of the train, to the very last compartment and knocked.  
  
He continued wandering the length of the train, not really caring where he went. He didn't want to go back to his house. His memories, his tortuous memories. His family, he could not deny that he was related to them, but they never had related. He was the outcast, in everything he had ever done. The soft spoken, the one they had dumped all their problems on. It was always his fault… His fault… Nothing was ever Romulus' fault. Always his. He pushed the bitter tears back as he slid into an unoccupied compartment. He stammered out a complex locking charm and let the tears fall as he too fell.  
  
Green eyes flashed angrily at the three pairs of dubious eyes, and their owners. "What do you mean you have no idea what's wrong with Remus? You three are supposed to be his best friends! There's something wrong with him, and I intend to find out." She stood there, expecting the three boys to say something. But there was just stunned silence. She shook her head angrily as walked away, leaving the door open. "Remus has been acting more withdrawn lately hasn't he…" The voice of Peter floated behind Lily Evans as she stalked away.  
  
He could not face them again, no he had almost slipped up and given himself away in front of them. They knew nothing of his past, just the way he wanted it. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't relive the pain… the despair of just thinking of their reactions wracked his body with pain. His stomach clenching, head throbbing. Pity, no he didn't need pity, he despised it. They would only pity him and say how sorry and unfair it was. Of course it was unfair, life was a losing battle for him. He wasn't worth what he had, nothing was ever good enough, so why have anything good at all? A stabbing started in his heart as he thought of good. Good was well too much more than he could ever expect. He didn't know what the good life was, and he doubted he ever would.  
  
He stayed alone, the way he preferred it, until th train came to a stop. He hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, leaning against the door. He heard their protests when they found his compartment, but he refused to let them in. Refused to let anybody in his life, his horrible pathetic life. They would be better off not knowing. It was a good ten minutes before he stood up to go collect his things, dragging his feet slowly, as if walking down death row. In his mind, anything would be better then going to his place of residence. The crowd was almost gone before he stepped out into the muggle platform, effortlessly dragging his belongs behind him. An almost exact replica of him stood not ten yards away, freezing immediately, he wondered if it was too late to go back.  
  
"What the hell took you so long, you waste of air? I've been wasting my time standing here waiting for your sorry ass, and I don't even get a thank you for picking you up. Hurry your ass up, or I'm leaving without you." Typical, Remus thought as he started walking slowly behind his older brother Romulus. He had always hated him from what he remembered. Being the 'superior' Romulus was always bossing him around, being two-faced, and Remus didn't do a thing about it. He had learned to deal with it. Deal with the stress, and abuse that was dealt to him by his brother.  
  
"Aww has poor little Remmie been crying his little eyes out?" Romulus voiced sarcastically as he gestured to the slightly reddened eyes. "Pathetic. I don't know why dad even bothers letting you stay at home, you aren't worth anything besides a house-elf. Who by the way, would be cheaper than some snot nosed asshole of a brother." Typical slandering as they tense walk to the automobile grew tenser as they approached it, the dull brown color flatly glared by the sun.  
  
"Stupid little freak! Hurry the hell up, I need to get to Ghama's house in two hours. Put you stupid shit in the trunk and get your sorry ass in the car." Romulus' voice was full of contempt and displeasure as he slammed the door of the right side into place. Teeth sank deeply into the lower lip, the pain was not unfamiliar, teeth marks already etched anew. Carelessly strewn, the faded outside of the luggage sank into th deep compartment, closed with a swift thud. Moving cautiously to the passenger side door, his hand twitched in relief as the handle freely pulled open. Sliding into the tattered matching brown seat, he was welcomed by a hand, across his cheek. A large red welt spread across the tender apple of his cheek. An angry snort followed the smack from his brother, "Not even a thanks for picking you up."  
  
"Maybe I didn't want to go home." The harshness of the words stung his tongue like acid. Not such an intensity of words had been revealed from him in quite some time. Another swift rush of air, and the hand was laid on top of his cheek for a second time, overlapping with the first, making the hand print grow angrier, brighter. "Ungrateful bastard. Keep your mouth shut, do you understand me? I don't want to hear your voice until we get home."  
  
Romulus' voice reverberated against the sleek pane of glass, and was magnified in Remus' ears. The angry tone going unsurpassed as his previous. Not an utter of sound from his throat, no he wouldn't serve his brothers wishes. Once again, the hand, brought down upon the impossibly red mark. "Answer me when I talk to you." The deep resentment for Romulus was reflected in the mark. The bright, unsurpassable color. The unmistakable red was blatantly there, yet ignored.  
  
"You aren't my father. I don't have to answer you." Shrugging away, expecting the worse, he pressed his forehead against the cool pane, relieving the small beads of sweat from his brow. Waiting for another blow, that never came. Just another agitated snort as they finally started to make their journey. It was long, tiring, painful, and silent. The tensions heavier than Mercury. The angriness of the red slowly started to fade into a deep purple bruise, which in itself did not hurt as much as the fact that his brother hated him. The blind panic of pain washed through him as he remembered what loomed ahead, what his inner self saw. This. This year would be the one. The one where the werewolf's only true fear, removal from the pack, his house becoming even less of a home. 


	3. The World Changes Sometimes

**The Altering of a Boy**

The darkness permeated throughout the thicket of trees, all sound lost amongst the dense, humid air. Hopelessness was reflected from the still air in the unwavering beam of light, splicing the darkness in an irrational way. Guiding the two bodies through the winding wildness of the night. The flooding calm of the dark, however, did not permeate throughout the bodies. Anger, fear and unresolved tensions ran their course in the bodies and minds respectively sitting in the vehicle.  
  
The winding road turned swiftly into a sparse dirt road, narrow and lengthy. Tense traveling was the way all the way up until a small secluded house rose into view in the distance. Perched haughtily atop on the top of a low hill. Without a protest uttered, the machines engine died down from a frightful roar, into a soothing lull. The last sound heard was the disturbances of locks, and ten their reacquaintancing, both from doors and the rear end of the car. The taller of the two fell fast into pace ahead of the younger, shorter boy, whom had to shift the large piece of luggage between hand and hip to try and achieve a better grip.  
  
The shadows on the house were creeping down the lawn, but did not hide the mid calf length grass, or even the overgrowth of weeds choking the already dried up rose bushes. The venom coursing through his veins, the one of the werewolf's, showed him the underside of the veil the darkness had provided. But not a soul had known, not one he had been acquainted to. If they had cared enough, they would have found out his true abilities, but alas, the darkness had told him. Whispered it into his delicate ears that nobody really cared about him. The darkness showed him what people would not. What they would not give him. A future. A future albeit masked in gloom, cold, and disgust. The very vibe that the looming dwelling gave off, was forever going to stick with him. As did the grime from the doorknob. It laced through his fingers as he closed the door behind him, shutting out the future, or maybe the present, at least for now.  
  
The house was small, untidy and unkempt. Leaves of paper strewn about, crumpled with dislike, and thrown into piles. Un-organization was what was spelled out in the mess, but it was what was known, and what was known, was what worked. The placid yellowing color of rows upon rows of books contrasted with the dark stain of the wood that covered every wall. Sparse and widespread were the decorations, a single mismatched pair of trinkets lay upon each barren table. The floorboards groaned underneath the shifting weight of the bare soles. Shoes forgotten at the door.  
  
The house was one level, splayed out in an orderly fashion, entrance, small study area, a hall that held four doors and an open arch way that lead to the kitchen. Moving quickly to the last door, struggling o balance belongings and self as he reached out for the door was hopeless as his luggage toppled over, creating a loud ruckus in the silent house. His presence was soon joined by another, ranting about the disturbed peace but the short-lived rant fell on deaf ears. Making no impression upon the boy, the ranter left quietly, only to be replaced by another, larger presence, who made itself known, only it was angrily patient as the boy started to leisurely pick up his belongings and put them back into his trunk.  
  
Struggling again once his belongings were in their rightful place, the doorknob slipped in his hand and the door only opened an inch or so, enough for his foot to kick the door open, to reveal a narrow set of stairs. Unsteady feet stepped onto the thin layer of dust, unsettling the particles, becoming as displaced as feelings had become after being thrown back into a most unsavory situation. He stopped to contemplate, still oblivious to his observer, if everything had its place as the dust settled back down. And if everything did have its place, then why was his here? He set his trunk down, back in the hallway, and looked up when it touched something animate. He gripped the doorframe, bracing himself for some verbal attack.

The man was about half a foot taller than him, and a larger build. The same mirroring eyes, although a shade of slate gray. Now flecked through with black from repressed anger. "Move your shit worm waste." There it was. His greeting from being away three quarters of the year and not even a simple hello. Hoe quite typical of his father, Roy Lupin. "You don't give a shit about your brother or I. Always thinking of yourself. Pathetic. It seems that you haven't even thanked Romulus for giving up his time to pick up your sorry ass. I didn't have to make him you know. I thought I'd do you a favor."  
  
Again, the topic of his ungratefulness. "Did I ask you to pick me up? I would rather have stayed at school, or, or even with a friend." Remus' mouth took on a mind of its own. The school year long and drawn out must have taken its senses with its passing.  
  
"I didn't say you could talk." Undeterred anger was starting to edge at his mood, unadultured by his fathers potent inscrutable frustration. " I went through hell to make sure you and your brother would have a place to live and eat this summer. And this. This is what I get in return? This bullshit. Well it ends now. If you want to eat or even come out of your room this summer, not another word unless I say so."  
  
Remus' eyes narrowed as he listened to his fathers ridiculous commands. "Why?" One simple word, that hung in the air as the tension rapidly grew. His father sputtered slightly before talking. "Because…I said so..." Roy snarled before slamming the door on his sons hand. With a loud yelp of pain, Remus pulled his hand back causing him to stumble into the wall of the stairwell, clumsily losing his balance and tumbling backwards down the stairs. A sickening crack resounded as Remus' skull hit the cement floor creating a flow of hot sticky blood to pool on the cool dry floor.  
  
-----  
  
And that was just the first of many passing injuries, some worse than others, fractures of the wrist and leg the most common besides the vast amounts of bruises that littered his body. But by far the most prominent of the injuries lay upon his left forearm. The tender underside was marred beyond recognition of skin. Just pink, faded crisscrossing scars running in every which direction. The scar tissue pink stood out well against the white almost iridescent skin. Each scar engraved deeply, if not in his flesh, but his soul.

The largest of all memories of his families hatred for him. Instilled deeply into his mind of how he was nothing important, a burden to others, a nuisance to those who knew about his curse. And a danger that needed to be tamed. Blade in hand, shaking like usual as pressing the sharp, taunting metal over an already healed scar, that was in a background of a healing yellow-brown bruise. The pain was ignored, as he had learned to deal with it. With the dripping blood being washed over the millions of pores, washing away all his insecurities, fears and thoughts as they slowly dripped into the rushing water, and started to spiral down into the black depth of unreachable stillness.


	4. Dawn of the Dusk

**------The Dawn of the Dark------**  
  
A fleeting light,  
and a gasp for breath.  
Nothing left to fight,  
looking forward to death,  
in the depth of night.  
  
Eyes fall shut,  
Ears go deaf.  
Life settles into a rut,  
and its darkness you wish to caress.  
  
Slipping past the hours,  
sliding through days.  
Nothing seems to still this power,  
failing in too many ways.  
  
Devastation nearing,  
coming to a close.  
Nothing has a meaning,  
In the eternal doze.  
  
Death is nothing to fear,  
An embrace that is only natural.  
No matter what one hears,  
Do not fear what is natural. 

----------**Pain is Life**----------  
As the darkness falls, and the light fades, tomorrow looks like something unattainable.  
  
Heroic feats are lost in ruins, love forgotten, friends epitomized in fading care.  
  
A fool for nobody, but a danger to everybody. Subduing is not an option.  
  
There is no option left, the metal is the glinting devil, the detail of your soul.  
  
Your souls future playing upon the gleam. Short and painful.  
  
The reason for pain is to relieve reality, escape injustice, and convert malice.  
  
Malice for self is engraved as blunt sharpness is indulged, the liquid of life burning a trench. engraving harsh syllables in flesh.  
  
Flesh is immortal, never ceasing to be created, one less body of flesh would not be important, as flesh is not important, but the soul is.  
  
The soul is marred in the heavily scared flesh and mind. Marred beyond recognition of anything human.  
  
Humans are pain, pain is beauty, and beauty is dead.  
  
**Dead.**  
  
Forever lost as the darkness falls.


	5. Making the Habit

**"Breaking The Habit"  
**  
_Memories consume  
Like opening the wound  
I'm picking me apart again  
You all assume  
I'm safe here in my room  
Unless I try to start again_

They don't know, nor do they realize. I can't let them, they'll just tell him, and he'll...he'll be him. The overwhelming feeling of dread lingers, I want to scrub it off, make my skin go raw, and it's still not good enough. nothing ever is. I have to be perfect, a prefect, the smart one. If I am the smart one, why am I doing this? Why am I leading them all to believe I am alright? That I'm not hurt, unscarred.  
  
_I don't want to be the one  
The battles always choose  
'Cause inside I realize  
That I'm the one confused_  
  
I don't want to have to do this, but there is no stopping myself. My will is weaker than my emotions. Haywire and out of control. The battles raging over my dysfunctional body, taking its toll on my life. The darkness always consumes, and resumes the tortuous conditions forced upon it. My mind is bemused, befuddled, insane. I cannot make up my mind, to fight this, or to go along with it.

_I don't know what's worth fighting for  
Or why I have to scream  
I don't know why I instigate  
And say what I don't mean  
I don't know how I got this way  
I know it's not alright  
So I'm breaking the habit  
I'm breaking the habit  
Tonight_

I know that this, in particular, is not worth it. I need not what they do, I need what this simplicity can give, but then why is it so wrong? Why is feeling relief so goddamn wrong? Is a person not allowed to lead a simplistic lifestyle the way he wants? Against society and against friends. _Friends_ who know nothing, who suspect less than nothing. Utter betrayal written on their faces when I burst, scream, tell things they do not expect. But what do they do? Brush it off. It's _that_ time of the month. How had things gone so terribly wrong? I was born, that's the only explanation, so I guess I better correct it.  
  
_Clutching my cure  
I tightly lock the door  
I try to catch my breath again  
I hurt much more  
Than anytime before  
I had no options left again_

Metal, it's truly beasts best friend. A cage of emotions wound together, keeping him from escaping, harming. Yet an escape in itself. The metal and I need to be alone, no prying eyes, no questioning lips. Pressing into my mind, the relief of the warmth and the solidness of the draining. There is no other way, no other option to go to. All doors are closed, and locked behind me. Pressing into my memory, my flesh, my best friend the razor.  
  
_I don't want to be the one  
The battles always choose  
'Cause inside I realize  
That I'm the one confused_

Everything happens for a reason, what's my reason? my father, myself. Hatred, placed and instilled in my brain. My own hatred triumphing. It always won the battle, hatred over all. No love to compete was strong enough. Impassible as the last defender of sanity and truth. Twisted, sick half truths were more satisfying. As a whole the truth is the worst thing. The worst possible answer.  
  
_I don't know what's worth fighting for  
Or why I have to scream  
I don't know why I instigate  
And say what I don't mean  
I don't know how I got this way  
I'll never be alright  
So, I'm breaking the habit  
I'm breaking the habit  
Tonight_

The only thing I am worth, is my happy razor. Oh how I long for a dagger, a dagger of silver, to mortally wound, to not heal, like my emotions, never healing. I can't fight the immortality, oh how I wish. To feel cold, more than the state of mind. More than the cold, harsh reality. I have no reason to cover up, they can see it. In my emotionless, statuesque eyes. Their questions unwanted, but not unfounded. A right un-liked by me, one unjustly used to pry, to get me to stop these empty tears. I say I need nobody, nothing. In fact I need more than I can get, help. Love, but all are unattainable, for I am a freak, which will be no more as soon as my best friend does his job.  
  
_I'll paint it on the walls  
'Cause I'm the one at fault  
I'll never fight again  
And this is how it ends_

The deep red, it shows a reflection, silver glinting, dulled and destroyed. The red dripping down the wall, the place of origin, smudged and forgotten. The pain increased with each throbbing press to the stone. I need it, want it. This is my doing, and nothing to explain as the metal falls to the floor, laying down as still as I wish I could. I give up. No more. Anything.  
  
_I don't know what's worth fighting for  
Or why I have to scream  
But now I have some clarity  
to show you what I mean  
I don't know how I got this way  
I'll never be alright  
So, I'm breaking the habit  
I'm breaking the habit  
I'm breaking the habit_

The darkness settles in. Not through my retinas, but my mind. Evil washing over light. No more fighting where useless. I don't know what to think, which to prove right, wrong. I need to scream, let it out. No reason just, to. they don't understand, they never will. Nor will they want to. Or need to. They nee don't know, as I do not need to know. Things happen, and this, this is how I deal. How I break the monotonous ritual that is called life. I'm breaking their habit of leaving me alone. I want them to find me, to see my blood smeared against my arm, against my wall. Throughout the whole wide world, until they understand. Until the try, until someone, somebody, anybody cares. And I need them to care  
_Tonight_


	6. Words of Reality

Teeth lip anger blood cut pain lost. Eye glare darken lose color overwhelm radiate fear. Hand cheek slap bruise anger quell voice shout yell fight run. Dark light bright eyes penetrate jab poke pros nose stare inquire. Walk jog run hide cover tremble cold initiate alone. Lost crumble fall wall broken down emotion free expression gone. Lone home behind future dim lid close damage done. Pain lasts crushed heart sodden mind. Dark overcomes senses down failed being. Disgust clear writing skin flesh pierce blade hand press slide bleed die.

-----

Fear bubble rise clench grind teeth tongue click open lips words anguish fght scream yell. Bottle lips liquid tongue burn slide swallow. Repeat. Drop smash scatter splatter stumble fall cut bleed. Laugh belch tumble voice slurr touch retreat anger quell fist clench swing contact. Skin bruise teeth cut blood stain. Abandon reason anger overwhelm red blinds fists entice. Batter beat tatter defeat, brawl won, hearts deflate home late. Phone dead, minutes spent, slurr subsides anger stays. House dark bed empty family gone. Words harsh tongue stings, heart clenches. Bed untouched, clothes shed fall hit pillow blanket eyes shut. Bitterness ends.


	7. Cut Deeply

_When my cheek is turned towards the ground, your hand still graces down to my chin to lift my eyes up to yours. When my ears are shut to all sound, your melodious voice breaks through the barrier. When my heart is crest fallen, and broken to pieces, you're there gently molding the pieces back into one with your elegant hands. Even though I do not fully deserve your presence at all times, you still follow me and pick me up when I am down. All I can give you in return is my thanks, and my prayers._

Remus sat alone on an abandoned platform, namely nine and three-quarters. The silence rang deafeningly in his ears as nothing stirred the air, not even a lone gust of fading summer air. Having been cast into the train station without a second glance, he had nothing to do but to wait the extra two hours that stood between him and depature for home. Praying silently, Remus had all but forgotten to keep his little inkling of faith alive over the summer. No matter how many times he was beaten to the lowest tier of self-worth and self-esteem. Althought conciously he knew his prayers may one day be answered, he was still waiting for some action to be taken.

Another hour passed in silence before another soul graced the platform, but this was just the trolly runner. Feeling cold down deep into his bones, Remus hugged his long sleeved shirt to his wrists, and then his arms to his chest. Humid was the air, and high was the temperature... but nothing could ever warm up a frozen soul; chilled by discontent and contemptment. Time was just not on his side, with each passing day he grew more feeble and weakened, from blood loss andor non self-inflicted injuries.

* * *

_"Remus..." Came the echoing boom of his fathers voice, it was a rare thing that either his brother or father called him by his birth given name anymore. Slowly, but surely his trembling hands laid the flat blade down into the lowest recess of the bathroom cabinet, as to not let his painful, yet ironically not, escape be left floundering out in the open. His uncovered feet dragged slowly, grudgingly over the smooth hard wood floors of the hallway, and onto the living room carpet. Feeling no sense of shame, he felt the blood of his wrists slowly start to seep through the thin fabric of his clothes._

_"Come here and clean up this mess..." Roy indicated snidely to a shattered glass and spilt whiskey. The smell intoxicated Remus' nostirls, his over sensitive senses blaring with discomfort at the harsh smell. As if a new wind took over his body, Remus rushed to the mess before it set into the carpet, afterall if he didn't catch the mess in time, he'd be liable for another broken bone if he was lucky._

_Bending down, he quickly gathered the shards of broken glass into his left palm. Right hand scanned the dampened floor for large shards when he was suddenly kicked in the side, and thrown forwards onto the glass. A multitude of shock and pain wracked his mind as several pieces of the glass entered his palm.

* * *

_

Apparently He had fallen asleep on his little bench and fell over when he was reliving a few days prior. The scabs were etched deep into his palm, by pure coincidence, if one looked that is, the shape of the scabs resembled a cresent moon. Now laying on his stomach on the floor of the platform, Remus steadily rose to his feet, and brushed off the gime from his clothing. A slow sigh escaped his lips as students and their families started to pass through the barrier into his own realm of loneliness.

The summer was not all that harsh to him, at least development wise. Now a staggering four inches taller, it was a shock to himself when he fit into Romulus' old clothes which always were too large for him, at least the length. Unable to trim his hair, the soft tufts now fell about his shoulders, and past his chin. A thin stip of ribbon holding back what it could, the rest fell unevenly into his eyes; which had seemed to grow in leaps and bounds in their depth and expression. Most of the time they showed a deep understanding of all things dark, and others, a pitiable glance of depression.

A thin pink line stretched across the apple of his right cheek, down to the left corner of his chin; a bit more square and defined if your eyes beheld it in the right light. Jagged and torn it seemed to have been painful at one time to acquire such a mark, but asthe memory seemed to fade, the scar lasted ten fold. It was such a difference in height and hair that his comrades had swept their eyes over the growing crowd of students, totally skipping over the reformed, in many ways, boy.


End file.
